


At the Same Moment

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-19
Updated: 2006-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I kind of want to let this one speak to itself.  It's AU, it's my first posted attempt at femmeslash, and the poetry is not my own (authors cited in-text except for the "tiger, tiger burning bright" bit which is by William Blake).  There will be a sequel to this, but it's not yet written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Same Moment

Mia held her coffee cup close to her lips, whether she was drinking from it or not, like a white ceramic shield protecting her from the outside world. Her eyes flickered from the page to her surroundings, and quickly back again if anyone noticed her. For an hour, no one had, but Mia was at a disadvantage. She sat on a stool at the black marble counter, and strangers congregated frequently at her back, in and out, everyone but her seeming to know the proprietors. Like any independent coffee shop with a certain reputation, Red Emma's attracted alternative "types," hippies and Goths and political revolutionaries of a distinct collegiate breed, but it also didn't tolerate newcomers, except with a slight sneer and a hastily prepared lunch that tasted almost bitter in light of one's own insignificance.

Mia didn't know what she was doing here—well, buying a cup of coffee, obviously—and was about to move on when a soft voice brushed over her shoulder.

"You're reading Ai. I love her."

The voice was tinged with slight surprise, and when Mia turned, she was met with a small, but nevertheless brilliant smile, attached to a woman with a simple, cherubic face and the kind of blonde curls that really do cascade, no matter how overused the figure may be.

Mia smiled and nodded, her own voice just as soft. "She's brilliant."

"At first, I thought you'd come to my rescue, but instead of waking me with a kiss, you pricked me with the thorn of violence…"

The woman's voice was not only soft but lilting, her Australian accent more apparent as she recited the lines, and as she trailed off Mia felt compelled to pick up the verse, her expression serious but tender. "…and I did not rise from my bed to wed the handsome prince as in the fairy tale my mother once read to me, when _forever_ did not mean eternity." Mia smiled as the woman took the stool next to her. "It's incredibly poignant. Incredibly sad, too."

The woman's head tilted briefly to the side, her lips pursing in an imitation of a shrug, as if to say, "isn't it always?" But then she smiled, her eyes bright and full of reflected sunlight from the window, and she offered Mia a small, pale hand. "Emile."

"Mia." _It's a pleasure_, she began to say, but then the barista, the cute girl with a brown-and-orange striped scarf and a skin tone that defied easy categorisation—Lebanese, maybe—took Emilie's order for a skim latte and a cranberry scone. Mia was suddenly, irrationally jealous of the girl for claiming Emilie's attention, even for a moment. She lowered her eyes to her saucer and blushed. What was she thinking?

"May I see your anthology, Mia?" Emilie asked, drawing her gaze upward again. Mia took a moment to register the question, then nodded, smiling a little too late, a small laugh, embarrassed. She passed the book over and Emilie smiled fondly as she flipped through the poems, as if reconnecting with old friends. "You've kissed my hair to wake me," the striking Australian read aloud, and Mia found herself with her chin in one hand, head tilted slightly to the side, watching unashamedly with a faint smile on her lips. "_I dreamed you were a poem_, I say, _a poem I wanted to show someone_…and I laugh and fall dreaming again of the desire to show you to everyone I love, to move openly together in the pull of gravity, which is not simple, which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air."

Mia let out a happy sigh. "You like Adrienne Rich?"

"I love her," Emilie agreed. "Is that too stereotypical?" Her smile was teasing, and Mia's 'stereotypical what?' fell from her lips before she even started to utter it. She hadn't been hit on in ages; she wasn't even sure she remembered how it worked. But this girl—woman—was beautiful, and Mia suddenly felt less alone in this pretentious little coffee shop.

 

"You have beautiful breasts," Emilie murmured, her face pressed to the underside of one, licking away the line of sweat that resided there. Mia gasped, and her hands twisted unintentionally tighter in Emilie's golden curls.

"Vixen," she murmured, on a laugh. Emilie laughed back, a beautiful sound, then pressed a kiss to a nipple and looked up, meeting Mia's eyes, sucking the point of it between her teeth and pressing down, gently, increasing pressure until Mia emitted a choking gasp. "God," Mia groaned. "You're like… a tiger," she whispered, the first comparison that came to mind. Emilie smiled, looking pleased, and cupped the breast she was focused on in both her hands, her open mouth tracing its curve as the tip of her tongue described an axis.

"Tiger, tiger, burning bright," she whispered, teasingly, her lips whispering just to the inside of Mia's armpit, "in the forests of the night."

"What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? I don't…" Mia broke off, gasping as Emilie chose to suck at the centre of her underarm, undeterred by the patch of prickly hairs or the taste of sweat. "…I don't like slant rhyme, normally. But it does fit."

Emilie smiled, moved up and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Mia's shoulder. "I don't know that I've ever heard the phrase 'slant rhyme' used in bed before," she joked. "But I like it."

Mia blushed, and hid her inexperience with a gentle tug to Emilie's hair, pulling her up for a wet, sensual kiss. She had always been bisexual, and she didn't hide the fact, but her experiences were still limited, and she found herself missing this encounter before it had even ended.

"Ah!" Mia gasped when Emilie slithered down, like a particularly beautiful serpent, and took Mia's clit between her lips, sucking with little almost-nips as her tongue flicked in and out and around. Mia's head dropped back to the pillow and she tried not to writhe, didn't object at all when Emilie's fingernails pressed a little too hard on her thighs to hold her.

"Tell me how you like it," Emilie requested, her voice soft, one small hand leaving the thigh it grasped so that one slender finger could brush teasingly at the entrance to Mia's body. "You're so wet…" she whispered in awe before Mia could answer, smiling deviously as she proved her point by sucking the juices from her finger.

"That's never been a… problem for me," Mia replied, her eyes locked on Emilie's soft lips as they suckled the digit, her hand moving of its own accord to tangle in the blond curls and push Emilie's head down. "Don't need anything inside," she instructed in answer to Emilie's request. "Just… there," she gasped when Emilie's tongue flicked across her clit before rubbing back and forth against the little nub with more determination.

"Well you _are_ a lesbian, love," Emilie retorted teasingly as she briefly raised her head, curls falling in front of her eyes and brushing Mia's pelvis in a strangely intimate fashion that made her arch her back slightly and sigh.

"Bisexual," she corrected, a bit belatedly.

Emily arched a single eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, well." Mia rolled her eyes slightly and Emilie laughed.

"Do you like it then? Having men fuck you?" she asked, sliding back up Mia's body and straddling her hips this time, sitting back slightly so that if she pressed down just so, the indirect stimulation would be enough to make both of them groan.

"Not particularly. Sometimes," Mia replied with a shrug, watching with some fascination as Emilie rocked slowly back and forth, holding her hair back with one hand, her breasts bouncing slightly with the movement. Tugging her own bottom lip between her teeth, Mia reached up, her eyes wide, and cupped Emilie's right breast in her hand, feeling the weight of it before she dragged a thumb gently across the pert nipple.

"Yeah…" Emilie growled, and Mia felt a surge of pride in her success, pressing a bit harder on the return sweep. Cautiously, she rolled the nipple between thumb and forefinger, and Emilie moaned low in her throat, tossing her head back, pressing down harder against Mia's groin.

"Can we… need a better position," Mia managed to get out as she reached up to play with the other nipple. "Want more, to come," she added, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks as she spoke words she normally reserved for her more steamy fantasies. Emilie looked down and grinned, keeping her eyes on Mia's as she slowly slid down, one leg slipping between Mia's.

"Here, sit up a little," she suggested, waiting until Mia was propped up against the pillows before starting a rocking motion, her hands under Mia's arse, pushing them together. Mia groaned and bit her lip, moving in tandem with Emilie as she felt the sensations build closer and closer to orgasm.

"Oh, God," she groaned, her hands travelling to Emilie's back where she pressed their upper bodies together, their breasts aligning somewhat awkwardly as Mia slanted her mouth towards Emilie's again, enthusiastically seeking out the woman's tongue.

"Such an eager little thing," Emilie muttered against Mia's lips when they parted, one hand dipping past the globes of her arse and seeking instead to dip teasingly in and back out of Mia's entrance. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

Mia groaned and nodded, a bit frantically, bending her head down to suck greedily at Emilie's neck as Emilie sped up the movements of her hips. "Please… need…"

"What? What do you need, love?"

Mia thought for a moment and then moved suddenly, pushing Emile unexpectedly flat on her back. Emilie just looked up at her, dazed for a second, and then smiled as Mia climbed atop her body, straddling Emily's hips and quickly establishing a hard grinding motion, her clit rasping against the curly thatch of hair as Mia took Emilie's breasts in both hands and groaned.

Her eyes screwed shut as she felt the swirl of sensation around her, followed by the inevitable panicking thought that this would all be over soon. And then it was too late to turn back, her head thrown back as her hips moved at a frantic pace, her thumbs pressing unconsciously hard against Emilie's nipples as her body was overcome by a trembling wave of ecstasy.

"Ahhh!"

Emilie watched, enraptured by the beauty atop her, riding Emilie's body shamelessly to bring herself to orgasm. She waited until Mia was finished, and then took a tight grip on the other woman's wrist, pulling the slender hand away from Emilie's breast and guiding it downwards.

Mia gave her new lover a wicked little smile as she slid back on her thighs, pushed Emilie's hand away, and reached down of her own initiative to rub at Emilie's clit in a steady motion, one finger on either side, driving Emilie quickly towards her own conclusion.

"Oh…Mia…" Emilie gasped, the only words she could manage before she bucked her hips hard against Mia's hand and came, her own juices—less copious than Mia's but still noticeable—flowing towards Mia's fingers.

Mia watched in awe as Emilie came down, still moving her fingers slightly, gently, knowing from personal experience that it was nice to maintain the touch through the last few aftershocks. Bending down, Mia took Emilie's lips gently between her own and nibbled slightly, licking playfully at the inside of Emilie's mouth before withdrawing and sliding down to lie beside her.

"You are…amazing."

Emilie giggled and shook her head and quoted softly, her long fingernails teasing along the curve of Mia's breast and the bumps of her vertebrae. "Whatever happens with us, your body will haunt mine—tender, delicate your lovemaking, like the half-curled frond of the fiddlehead fern in forests just washed by sun. Your travelled, generous thighs between which my whole face has come and come—the innocence and wisdom of the place my tongue has found there—the live, insatiate dance of your nipples in my mouth—your touch on me, firm, protective, searching me out, your strong tongue and fingers reaching where I have been waiting years for you in my rose-wet cave—whatever happens, this is."

When she finished the poem, Mia realised that she had never heard Adrienne Rich recited in an Australian accent. Mia had also never fallen in love. It seemed irrelevant now.

\----

_My mouth hovers across your breasts  
in the short grey winter afternoon  
in this bed we are delicate  
and touch so hot with joy we amaze ourselves  
tough and delicate we play rings  
around each other our daytime candle burns  
with its peculiar light and if the snow  
begins to fall outside filling the branches  
and if the night falls without announcement  
there are the pleasures of winter  
sudden, wild and delicate your fingers  
exact my tongue exact at the same moment  
stopping to laugh at a joke  
my love hot on your scent on the cusp of winter_


End file.
